Monthly Archives:

February 2014

The Great Male Model Retrospective

Male models, given far less credit (and money) than their female super-counterparts, have always been appreciated on this blog. More than lust or desire or frenzied acclaim, they are an inspiration. They help me put down that second danish, or walk by the bowl of M&M’s, or take the one flight of stairs instead of the elevator. Granted, none of that is turning me into a male model anytime soon, but if such inspiration is a starting point, why knock it? And why keep them hidden? Here, then, is a brief collection of those shirtless men who keep some of us on our toes. One of the greatest gifts that another person can give is inspiration; these hunks have proven most generous in that respect.

Let’s begin on a personal note, with a model whom I first met when he was just five years old. Who knew at the time that the thin, rambunctious cousin of my then-girlfriend would grow into such an admirable young man? Meet Calvin.

Someone I haven’t met (but if anyone can manage an introduction, please hook a guy up) is Noah Mills.

Two words: David Gandy. And since you can never get enough, another naked glimpse.

Two more words: Tyson Beckford.

In case you haven’t heard a bazillion times before, I prefer my male models not too closely-shaven. In fact, when it comes to chest hair, less depilatory action is more. As proven in these shirtless and nude shots of Josh Wald, Jared Allman (and he is all man), and Daniel Garofali (who just manages to keep enough on, and I don’t mean clothing).

Before he went all Fifty Shades of Sexy, Jamie Dornan was just another Hunk of the Day.

Cult favorite Benjamin Godfre always seemed a tad too edgy to ever be mainstream model material, and I love him all the more for it.

In addition to flaunting his nakedness in front of the camera, Todd Sanfield also produced a line of his own underwear, that he models better anyone else.

He may have been better-known as Madonna’s sexy boyfriend at one time, but Jesus Luz got some modeling gigs out of it, and with good reason.

Theres nothing better than a male model who can rock a colorful bow tie (and colorful square cut), such as Victor Ross does so winningly.

Calvin Klein has introduced a number of remarkable specimens over the years, a knack that continued with a nude Garrett Neff and an equally-naked David Agbodji.

Asia has unfortunately never been tapped as a great supplier of male models, but gentlemen like Choi Ho Jin should go some way toward correcting that. And Godfrey Gao has made his own sexy efforts as well.

Tom Ford, however, has been tapping male models for years, as richly evidenced by Juan Betancourt.

Brazil has also never been lacking when it comes to male models. See Caio Cesar take it all off.

Nobody pulls off fringed leather chaps like Rob Evans.

Nathan Owens brings us the shirtless and pants-less Days of Our Lives.

Dolce & Gabbana were largely responsible for putting Tyson Ballou on the male model map, and cartographers around the world should be ever grateful.

Finally, a man of fine ink, David Mcintosh, because an apple a day keeps the doctor away.

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A Tibetan Bowl for My Brother

I may not be the best brother in certain aspects, but one thing I do well is give some great gifts. I’m talking about the metallic cock I gave him for Christmas (a kitchen chicken decoration, you sick fucks), the peeing boy who pulled his pants down and shot water (like the kind you see at hibachi tables for show), or some of my Madonna LPs for his record collection. This year, however, I went a little deeper.

It turns out that my brother is into Tibetan art, and actually visited my favorite Tibetan store in Harvard Square a few months ago. At that time, he was taught about the Tibetan prayer bowl – a hand-made copper bowl, heavy and designed to produce a tone perfect for meditation. The last time I was in Boston, I made up my mind to find one for his birthday present.

These prayer bowls are not inexpensive, but their hand-made and unique nature makes them worthy of such a price, so I went to the Tibetan store on the Boston side of the Charles River and found this one. I’d been there a number of times – it’s toward the end of Charles Street, and down a few steps, hidden away as if saving itself for those who are really looking.

Near the back of the store were a few shelves that held the Tibetan prayer bowls. I tried a few before settling on this one, which called to me with its simple, clear tone, and smaller shape. The kind woman at the store moved its wooden stick around the rim, and it sang the sweetest, calmest song. She struck its side, and the sound of peace overrode whatever else was happening in my head and outside on the street.

She smiled and said it had a nice sound, then asked me what color tissue paper I would like to include with it, as I’d indicated it was a gift. I chose blue and a coppery red, and then found a few Tibetan prayer flags to include with it, and a hanging tapestry, all of which would fit into the attic at my parents’ house that he had re-decorated.

It seems my brother and I have more in common than we sometimes realize. I was about to explain how the lady at the store managed to elicit those dulcet sounds, but he said that he already had a lesson by the man in the Cambridge store (the same one who once taught me how to tie a scarf for maximum warmth), and this man had spoken about meditation, made him close his eyes, and even placed a cape on his back. If you know my brother, you know how strange that sounds – and even if you don’t, it sounds a little odd, but in the best possible way. Perhaps he should be instructing me.

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Even More Naked Stuart Reardon Shots

Starting off the morning in a very sexy way… Just when you thought there couldn’t be any more naked male hotness from Stuart Reardon, along comes this post featuring more of his namesake and strongest asset. I love when a man knows his attributes, and how to use them to best advantage. In this instance, it’s his ample ass, on display as it was in this previous post. Had I known that this is what rugby could do for a body, I’d have picked up a ball years ago, instead of just sucking on them.

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Tom Ford – London… and Beyond

Attention: Tom Ford’s latest Private Blend ‘London’ is now available in Terminals 3, 4, 5 at Heathrow Airport. Just a short while ago it was only available at his Knightsbridge store. Now, it seems to be on the slow-move across the world, and it’s only a matter of time before it reaches these shores (fingers crossed). It definitely sounds like an intriguing scent, a bit darker and less feminine than his Jardin series, and more similar to his recent Oud infatuation. As should be apparent by this third post on ‘London’,  I simply can’t wait to try this one out. Tom Ford rocks.

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A Naked Ginger

Olympian Greg Rutherford has been slightly naked here before, but never in GIF-animated motion like this. That always merits a second post. As does any ginger who deigns to take his clothes off. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: everybody loves a ginger.

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The Best Scones in the World

First, a disclaimer: I’m not an expert on scones. For the most part, I avoid them, as they all too easily turn out dry and dull. A number of years ago I found myself in a pinch at an Au Bon Pain, and I tried one of their orange scones, which had a delicious orange glaze (if questionably bright in color), but the scone itself was dry and brittle, crumbling in the worst possible way, and made only half edible by its glaze. Since then I’ve tended to stick to a muffin or a croissant if I need a dose of carbs for breakfast.

This past weekend, however, I found myself at one of the South End Buttery satellite locations (which was pleasantly less jammed early in the morning than its popular flagship residence), and a chocolate orange scone was calling out my name. Based on the fact that every single thing I’ve ever had at the Buttery has been out-of-this-world good, including their scones, I ordered one (and a chocolate chunk cookie, just in case). It is another secret of Boston that I hesitate sharing because I want it all to myself.

Here was a revelation. Here was a scone that managed to be moist and flavorful, with just the right consistency of crumble to it. The chocolate mixed divinely with the orange – always a favorite combination of mine – and the multitude of tiny air pockets kept things light and less dense than most other scones I’ve had. Which isn’t to say it wasn’t substantial – it was – but in the best possible way. I sat in the window, slowly enjoying every bite, watching a sunny Sunday morning leisurely unfold in the South End.

I might have to go back to Boston next weekend just to get another.

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Tom Daley’s Naked Ass (For Real)

Reports are that the photo below is actually Tom Daley’s naked butt, taken by a friend who just happened to be in the shower with him. I’m neither confirming nor denying the veracity of said reports, but it certainly looks plausible. Actually, it looks better than plausible. Mr. Daley has come close to revealing everything in the past, but this is the most he’s actually let slip. Still, might what’s behind the bulge be even better? We await word from the Daley camp.

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Jake Gyllenhaal’s Naked Orgasm Face

Hairy hunk Jake Gyllenhaal has appeared naked here before (in this scintillating male nudity post) and as one of the more frequently nude male celebrities, he will likely appear here again. Since there haven’t been any complaints, here are a few GIFs of Mr. Gyllenhaal giving us another view of his naked assets.

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A Baby Brother’s Birthday

Here’s wishing my brother Paul a very Happy Birthday. (He doesn’t read this site so I’ll do it in person another day and not make a huge deal about it here.) In so many ways, we are complete opposites, but after almost four decades of learning to accept each other, we’ve made a sort of peace with that and become friends. Of late, that was largely helped by his children (my niece and nephew) who have inadvertently worked to heal some old wounds in the entire family. I don’t talk much about such things – I hint and shade and offer analogies, but I’m not ready to call anyone out just yet. Besides, life is much better when one learns to ask for forgiveness, and learns to forgive.

My brother and I share what is probably a typical relationship between siblings. We have had our share of fun interactions, some moving movie nights, and a few less-than-fun knock-down-drag-out fights, but for the most part we love each other like only brothers can. There is no one else on earth who has shared the almost-exact-same upbringing. A year and a half apart  in age doesn’t leave much time for difference either, so we know each other very well.

Happy Birthday Powie!!

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Final February Recap

How glad am I to be coming up on the end of February? Let me count the ways in this quick recap of the previous week. We were buried in snow for much of it, and this time (given its excessive amount and the frigid temps that followed) it stuck around. It will be a while before it goes away, but we’re headed in the right direction. Slowly but surely the wings of spring are flapping in the distance. She is approaching. One brief look back before we dive into March on a lion’s mane…

It’s been a while since I had one of these, and when I sucked it down I realized why. GACK.

My foray into 70’s porn.

Cooking for comfort, cooking for company, cooking for coolness, cooking for creamy goodness.

Don’t forget that your family is gold.

These Hunks kept things hot and sexy: Pablo Hernandez, Josh Button, Perez Hilton, & Jason Derulo.

But it was Chris Salvatore who stole the show in his skivvies. (Until Dan Osborne got naked and stole it all back. HOT.)

Pucker up.

Ladies & gentlemen: my ass.

And their asses.

Back in the city I love.

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Just Another Manic Monday

The first time I heard this song I must have been in fourth or fifth grade, and I knew little to nothing about what a real ‘Manic Monday’ felt like. Still, no kid liked Mondays, so we had our own connections to this anti-work diatribe and weariness-of-life pop song. In the grand tradition of ‘9 to 5’, it listed the hardships of facing the start of another work week, the set-backs that seemed to compound one another, and the wish for a rewind to a more pleasant Sunday-fun-day state. Whenever I get down about Mondays, it helps to think that most of us are in the same boat, struggling in our own way to begin the day.

Back in grade school, my concerns were whether or not my math homework was done, or if my plastic pencils were running out of lead capsules, or whether Joey would make me laugh so hard I’d get in trouble with the teacher again. That’s the kind of Manic Monday I long for now. If I could do it all over again, I totally would.

Incidentally, the album from which ‘Manic Monday’ originated – ‘Different Light’ by the Bangles – was the first full record I ever got. (Not counting Muppet Movie soundtracks or ‘The Magic Garden’ LP or other kids’ stuff.) I wore the record out, listening to these four ladies harmonize and rock out. They came to me at about the time Madonna did, and for that reason I’ll always hold them close to my heart. They offered the escapism of a pop song, the shared longing for the weekend, and aural inspiration to get through it all until Friday arrived again. Like spring, it will always come.

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Further Sunday Sustenance

To go along with the curry meatballs, I wanted something light and cool to temper the spice and heat of the meat, so I came up with this rather plain side dish of rice noodles. It was simple enough – much of the work was simply slicing and dicing, lopping and chopping (which can be just as tedious as mini-meatball-making,) but there is something peaceful about the process.

As is often the case, I took a number of online recipes and pulled the best bits of each, settling on this rather rough mix of fresh veggies and herbs. While the rice noodles were cooking I started with thin matchsticks of carrots and cucumbers.

(The thin rice noodles I used were done in a fast five minutes, at which point I drained them and rinsed them with cold water to stop the cooking and chill them a bit.)

Then I chopped up some scallions and fresh mint to add a bit of flavor. I eschewed the use of salt for this dish, aiming to be a little healthier.

Once the noodles were drained, I drizzled the smallest amount of vegetable oil over them so they wouldn’t stick together, and an even smaller drop or two of sesame oil for a hint of additional flavor.

To the noodles, I added the vegetables and herbs and tossed them all together. They chilled in the refrigerator for an hour or so, then I tossed them again before serving.

Along with the meatballs, they made up a delicious lunch. (And several snacks throughout the next few days.)

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Rolling Balls (It Ain’t the Meat, It’s the Motion)

When planning a light lunch for a visit with the twins, I decided to go for a twist on spaghetti and meatballs. Since noodles actually originated in China, an Asian aspect made perfect sense, so I tried my hand at a Panaeng Curry Meatball dish, served with a side of rice noodles and fresh herbs (coming up later). Andy has always made the meatballs in our family, but I’m learning how to do things on my own, so he had no hand in prepping these (other than setting up the mixer and explaining how I needed to remove the strings of fat that were left on the paddle).

These pungent little balls (I opted for appetizer size, much to my later chagrin) were bursting with flavor, thanks to the influx of fresh cilantro and lemon grass. Some garlic, fresh ginger, and red curry paste rounded out the taste burst, and a handful of panko bread crumbs added texture to the ground beef.

An egg bound it all together and then it was time to begin rolling the balls. This was definitely the most tedious part. It was simple enough to do – all those years of Play Doh paid off, but the amount of balls that came from 2 pounds of meat was, well, substantial. It seemed the assembly line would never end, but I kept at it, whittling away at the block of beef until it was a neatly-formed army of mini-meatballs, ready for simmering.

At this point in the recipe, you could bake the meatballs for use at a later time, or plop them directly into the sauce if they are to be served immediately. I opted for the latter. (Any chance to eliminate a step, particularly an oven step, and I am on board.) The sauce was a heavenly mix of coconut milk, fish sauce, brown sugar, more red curry paste, Kaffir lime leaves (chopped finely), and fresh basil. It simmered while I rolled the meatballs, and was ready to receive them when at last they were done.

The finished product was better than I could have hoped. Every once in a while I can be a whiz in the kitchen, and this was one of those times. The meatballs were busting with the riot of flavor that their ingredients promised. Just spicy enough to keep the tongue excited, but grounded with the earthiness of the beef and breadcrumbs to keep things on an even keel. I topped it off with a sprinkling of fresh cilantro, and we were ready to eat.

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The Great & The Gratuitous in Male Nudity

Shirtless and naked male celebrities get a lot of attention here, and this Saturday post, designed for my time in Boston, will do nothing to curb the sexy shirtless appeal for which many of you visit this site. It’s time for a brief look back at some classic guys who have garnered rave reviews whenever they doff their shirts. While no one is nude just yet (wait for it…) these guys are too hot not to feature again.

First up is David Beckham, who models the latest in his underwear line for H&M. While I’m not a huge fan of the clothing, I like the way he sells it. Far lesser stars would never have shown themselves in the briefs that Mr. Beckham braves, and far bigger stars wouldn’t have the balls either. Beckham beats both quite handily.

(On a side-note, one can’t mention Mr. Beckham without mentioning his only competition for sexiest underwear-shucker ~ Ben Cohen.

Or Mario Lopez.

Or Cristiano Ronaldo.

Or Rafael Nadal.

Another favorite shirtless male who’s not afraid to get a little naked now and then is Chris Evans. As the Captain of our country, Mr. Evans fights for truth and freedom and the right to take off his shorts and jump in Boston Harbor. (We may not utilize all of our rights, but I’m glad they’re there.)

More recently, Dan Osborne has been seen here in his altogether, in several breathtaking GIFs and also chumming it up with fellow Speedo-clad diver Tom Daley. (Whom you’ve seen here over and over again.) Mr. Osborne is no stranger to male nudity, and he seems to be the kind of 21st century guy who embraces the glances of men and women alike. Desire is desire, and flattery is flattery. And when you’ve got a body like that, well, you can embrace it all.

Last but most certainly not least is Joe Manganiello. He battled Channing Tatum for the best butt and the result was a virtual draw. (We need to see them again.) Some battles are better when there’s no Victor. Or Victor.

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The 32nd Floor

When we were kids, we used to stay at the Copley Marriott in Boston with my Mom. Sometimes Gram would join us, sometimes it would just be my brother and myself. Back then (this was the late 80’s and early 90’s), the elevators of each floor were situated around a large window that looked out onto the Charles River. (On the 4th of July, locals and hotel guests alike would station themselves at these windows to get the perfect view of the fireworks – yes, I did that one year before word seemed to get out.)

High above the city, the view of Boston always thrilled me. I felt its magic and pull, and envisioned a day when I’d be out on my own, exploring the city and reveling in its romantic twilight. It was a glimmer of independence, coupled with the safety of having a hotel room to which I could return at the end of the day. The crux of adolescence and childhood, and the bit of freedom afforded us walking through Copley Place without parental guidance was exhilarating. (We were allowed to stay out late and walk around the mall, as it was attached to the hotel.)

A few weeks ago, I was walking through the Marriott and on a whim took the elevator to one of the upper floors. I looked out to this view again, remembered when the world was filled with possibility, and felt the same expansive thrill. This weekend I’m in Boston, and feeling the magic all over again.

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